


Bad Luck

by juchu



Category: Paradigm Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bass Pro Pyramid, Canon-Typical Violence, Casinos, Comedy, Jeremy is tired, Lucas is a nuisance, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Missions, Noah panics in the hotel room, Not Beta Read, Not exactly obvious but if you can see the gay if you squint grins, Panic Attack, SILLLYYYY STRING, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Some angst, Your Mom, grape soda, some original characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juchu/pseuds/juchu
Summary: Noah Fitzgerald and Lucas Copperfield are assigned to an egregious mission in the no man's land that is the Bass Pro Pyramid.No one realized it was a bad idea until it was too late.
Relationships: Lucas Copperfield/Noah Fitzgerald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Lucas Copperfield is great at missions.

This is a statement, and statements are commonly known as true. Thus, Lucas Copperfield is factually, famously, and fantastically great at missions. 

However, there is quite the line of people that would say they disagree. 

“Lucas,  _ please _ don’t do anything weird. Simple mission. One night. Just get information on the Warped guy and  _ get out _ .”

On Lucas’ phone screen (brand Apple, of course), a young man bleeped into existence. He was entirely mundane. Caucasian, debatably average height, and had the most dull shade of brown for the mop of chocolate upon his head he called hair. Simply looking at him made Lucas want to yawn. However, there was one thing that made the man not painfully unnoticeable, and that was the strange pin on his tie. A little mysterious black circle with a white sigil, the logo of their Paradigm Agency.

Jeremy Smith, the poor guy, was the one apparently sacked. Not sacked in the typical, “Oh, you’re fired,” sort of way, but sacked in the, “You, yes you, whatever your name is. You’re in charge of Lucas’ mission, go do it,” very unfortunate way. Why was Jeremy, the rookie, in charge anyways? Don’t ask Lucas, he didn’t have the foggiest idea either. 

Before Lucas could properly respond to Jeremy with another of his infamous little comments, a young girl shoved past him, glancing to and fro. She trembled terribly, but just as he supposed he should do something, she darted away into the shifting bodies that populated the lobby. All he was able to catch was a flash of a hairpin, this intricately beautiful black cat with naive yellow eyes, before she was gone. 

Strange.

“Lucas, hey! Are you listening to me? I said please don’t do anything weird,” Jeremy said, cutting into Lucas’ already painfully short attention span. With a roll of his eyes, Lucas slipped off to a small gathered seating area, purloining complimentary mints from guest dishes along the way. Suffice to say, despite his cat-like movements, he struggled with avoiding the many tacky fishing furnishings mounted on the walls, most notably a giant talking salmon with sunglasses. Finally, he slid into a comfy armchair and returned to his phone call.

“‘Don’t do anything weird?’” Lucas parroted back in poor imitation. “C’mon, Jere. Not weird, but ‘pre-tty stylish’. Has a better ring to it, wouldn’t you say?” Lucas grinned down at Jeremy Smith’s face, flipping his phone precariously in his hand. 

“No, I wouldn’t say-- LUCAS, CUT THAT OUT!”

The phone’s camera that was spinning wildly upon Lucas’ finger finally came to a stop. Poor Jeremy was looking motion sick from the other side of the screen. Shame the guy was all the way back at the Agency’s headquarters, completely out of entertainment’s reach. Now who could Lucas harass?

Seemed like Jeremy himself had an answer. “We’re pairing you with… erm... Noah for this assignment. Take care of him, you know how touchy he can be with the whole death omen stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, Jere.” He was obviously not listening.

A sigh from the other end. “Lucas, the Warped guy’s ability is  _ very _ specific. Did you hear that?  _ Very specific.  _ So be careful. Ilex booked some rooms for you and Noah, they’re under your names on the front desk. Once you get into your rooms, text me and I’ll send the information we know about the guy. Got it?”

Lucas was absolutely enraptured with one of the low dangling chandeliers on the ceiling.

“Lucas!”

“I got it! Sheesh, no need to be loud.”

“Noah should be here any moment in the front lobby…” Jeremy took a sweeping glance around the room for a moment through the phone’s camera, but whatever he was looking for did not show itself and he hunched over nervously. Silence.

Lucas raised an eyebrow smugly, waiting for it.

“You’re a workplace hazard. You do know that, right?”

There it was. “You know what they say, Jere.” He brushed his hair back with one gloved hand. The movement was quick, practiced, as if he had woken up that morning and rehearsed it in the mirror (Who is anyone kidding? Of course he did). “Hazard’s my middle name.” 

“Your middle name is ‘Sexy’, Lucas-- I mean, GRR!”

“Yup, walked right into that one. Okay gotta go, byeeeeeeeee!”

“LUCAS--”

He ended the call with a satisfactory tap of his finger. 

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Lucas’ patience (or lack thereof) was rewarded as the notable persona that made up  _ the _ Noah Fitzgerald stumbled into the hall. 

A walking catastrophe comparable to a rinky dink yard sale of haunted nondescript items, Noah came to a stop in the middle of the lobby, casting his vapid disinterested gaze over the seating area. He looked mentally exhausted per usual. Perhaps there were some ouija board planchettes rattling in that head of his. 

The clusters of people milling about eyed him warily as he came by dragging an abhorrent number of suitcases behind him in the same manner that a murderer may drag their victims. 

Upon spotting Lucas, Noah made a beeline over to the plush recliner Lucas had situated himself in so neatly.

“Salutations,” Noah muttered into the collar of his gratuitously fluffy bathrobe.

Lucas’ gaze slid down Noah’s arm to the handle of the suitcase (which no doubt costed as much as his iPhone) and then to the rest of the bags that trailed behind Noah in a nightmare wedding train. 

“Is that all for one night?” Lucas smirked as he rose from the ever so comfortable chair.

“Afraid so. Hair care is a man’s scourge and prowess.”

“Very cool, fruit loop! Oh, wait, hold on--” He dug about his pockets, raining leftover playing cards, dead doves, and rainbow silk handkerchiefs onto the fish-patterned carpet. Finally, he dug out a little red and white striped candy. “Want a mint?”

Noah wordlessly held out a hand.

As the two began heading their way for the hotel’s receptionist desk, Lucas made quick conversation while Noah undid the wrapper of the mint. 

“The Bass Pro Pyramid…” Noah popped the mint into his mouth, expression everso grimly humorous. “You chose a place with a horrible history for scouting.”

“Not my fault! Apparently our target got Warped right here, completely unfamiliar with their powers. Someone’s gotta nip it in the bud, right?”

Noah lifted an eyebrow. As someone passed in front of him, he proceeded for a smooth sidestep in his size two hundred men’s bath slippers. The slightest smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.“When the rapture comes from this, we will be the first ones to go.”

“Yeah, and when we’re running from scary Warped guy, you can trip as the sacrifice while I escape.” 

The leftover wrapper from Noah’s mint smacked him in the face. 

“Hey!” Lucas grabbed it and tossed it back. “Speaking the truth, Noh. Speaking the truth.” 

“Truth is but a false construct of reality where one deludes themself or one accepts themself.”

“Hey Socrates, it’s a  _ word. _ ” As he threw the passing comment, Lucas pushed his way to the front of the line of people, planting his arms on the receptionist desk to greet the pretty woman tending it. 

The receptionist desk was large and spanning, multiple people working like little gophers behind it, packing things up, rummaging through files, and of course there was the lady checking in all the guests roving her hands over the keyboard.

“Good afternoon, darling,” Lucas purred as Noah busied himself with examining several brochures on a rack.

The woman glanced up, cheeks taking on a satisfying shade of mulberry red. “Oh, good afternoon, sir!” she tittered, drawing a lock of her hair behind an ear. “How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for room reservations under the names Lucas Copperfield and Noah-- what’s your last name again…? Oh yeah-- And Noah Fitzgerald.”

The receptionist typed the names into her computer, trying hard not to blush as Lucas flashed her another brilliant smile. Said smile vanished when Noah whacked him over the head with a brochure. “No.”

“I’m just--”

_ “No.” _

The receptionist cleared her throat, fingernail tapping upon the marble desk. “Sirs…?” Her face has completely lost the blush she attempted to suppress earlier. Now, she just looked unamused. “I did not find separate rooms, but I did find a  _ couple’s room _ booked for Lucas Copperfield and Noah Fitzgerald.” 

Noah choked on his mint. 

Lucas, chin cradled in his palm, sighed melodramatically, as if he had long since resigned himself to his fate. “Well, well, well, looks like Ilex’s been busy.” Meanwhile, he continued to ignore the hacking and knee slapping of Noah in the background. Finally, after Lucas shoved his good hard chicken bone elbow into Noah’s ribcage, Noah managed to dislodge the mint from his windpipe in a bout of laughter.

“Sirs? Is that a confirmation or not?” The receptionist glanced between them, unimpressed.

“Of course,” Lucas grinned. “Two room keys, please!” 

The two of them followed by Noah’s many suitcases made their way to the elevators, Lucas twirling their room key on his finger. Once they entered the elevator (or better known as squished themselves in there with the luggage), Lucas sighed and pulled his face into a smirk.

“So,  _ honey _ …” he began.

“Yes,  _ darling _ ?” 

“Hm… Nevermind! I tell you when we get into the room!”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open into a quiet hallway. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear muffled voices and laughing, perhaps they were partygoers on this floor. Regardless, it was empty. Just hallway after hallway of the same plush fish-patterned carpet and low hanging lamps. 

The smell of dust and antiseptic permeated the halls as they dragged their luggage to their room. Numerous times they became turned around in the labyrinth of doors (or more accurately,  _ Lucas _ got turned around and Noah just followed along).

Finally, they managed to find their one out of a hundred rooms and their key was inserted into Room 233.

A horror awaited them within...

The room was pitch black, a gaping rectangular hole in the midst of dull throbbing lamp light. 

Lucas and Noah entered the room, creaking the door close behind them.

“Do you see a light switch?” Noah said.

Lucas moved about in the dark, hand running across scratchy yet empty wallpaper. “I don’t, but maybe we could just leave it off. The dark’s kinda romantic don’t you think?”

“Sure, then we can make out-- wait hold on, I found it.”

Before Lucas could make whatever sarcastic comment he had revved up, the room exploded with light.

There was only one way to describe the room: tacky. 

Everywhere one looked, there was brown. Not the nice earthly or coffee shade, mind you, it was blunt and ugly. Gone was the fish patterned carpet, replaced with an abhorrent zigzagged one. Black leather chairs were ripe with badly spent wealth and each pillow was overpuffed like a two time winner retired baseball coach. 

There was a mounted deer head on the wall, a deer antler chandelier, and a gorgeous spanning window bordered by golden curtains that didn’t display the outdoors, but rather gave a complete view of the bathroom. 

And there was only one bed. Namely a bed littered with a crime scene of bloody red rose petals and dark chocolates and a sharp edged note that whispered, “Enjoy your stay!”

This time, it was Noah who moved first. Slowly, dreadfully, carefully, he removed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, taking a long drag. Inhale. Exhale. Wavy trails of smoke filled the room. “Well…” he began. “Happy honeymoon, sweetheart.”

  
  
  


After half an hour, they managed to get settled in. Noah’s amount of gratuitous suitcases were stuffed into every little nook and cranny while Lucas’ sparse accommodations were strewn around the room as if they were objects in the poorest scavenger hunt to ever exist.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about again?” Noah turned to watch Lucas stuff the complimentary chocolates in his mouth upon the bedsheets.

Suffice to say, the chocolates did not taste good. They had a cheap quality to it that could only be found in the elusive backrooms of one’s local 7/11. 

“Oh?” Lucas proceeded to talk with his chomping open mouth. Disgusting. “I was just gonna ask who was going to take the bed, and since I’m already sitting on it…” He patted it heartily, scattering chocolate wrappers and rose petals as he went. 

Noah responded by promptly walking towards the bed and flopping onto the unoccupied portion. 

Lucas sildled into a preschooler’s criss-cross applesauce, voice imploring. “I kick in my sleep, you sure you wanna lay down next to that? I think the couch would be waaaay more comfortable… Besides, I gave you a mint. You owe me.” 

“I don’t owe you anything.” The cigarette bobbed as he spoke. “Literally almost died choking on it.”

“Which I saved you from sooooo-- OW!” Lucas’ back banged against the headboard of the bed. A tidal wave of rose petals came bursting off the scratchy gray sheets. “If that’s the case, why not have a manly battle for bed ownership?”

“Your lack of manliness aside…” Noah blew a trail of smoke into the air. “I don’t feel up for it anyways.”

Party pooper. Lucas sighed, rummaging through his metaphysical hat of responses. “Yeah, me neither--” 

Suddenly, the preppy grind of bass strings twittered from Lucas’ pocket. It continued blaring joyfully as he dug one gloved hand into his pockets. Tissues, candy wrappers, and lint rained upon the carpet as he finally managed to dig out his phone. 

_ “How ba-ad can I be?”  _ it sang with every ring. Lucas curled his lip before his fingers rapidly tapped across its cracked surface.  _ “I’m just doing what comes natur--” _

“Ollo, Jere-Jere!” Grinning, he tucked the phone beneath his chin. “How’s the weather back there?” 

Noah raised an eyebrow.

Jeremy’s voice came rapt and impatient from the phone. “I was waiting for your call, Lucas! It does not take an hour for you to get to your room and call me-- I thought something happened to you or something.”

“We’re just relaxing that’s it! Having to wait in that lobby for so long… tiring…” He sighed overdramatically. It’s always a joy to poke Jeremy until something interesting happens. If anything, Jeremy was the fish behind the glass and Lucas was the hyperactive child poking at it. 

“My god. Anyways, we're dealing with Miss Sabrina Cortese. She’s a, uhm…” The sounds of pages rustling could be heard from the other end. “She’s eleven-- no that’s not right…” More rustling.

Noah silently shot Lucas a look that lazily read, “Does he know what he’s doing?”

Lucas shrugged in response. 

Jeremy’s voice returned, seemingly founding some confidence in whatever paper he managed to find. “I mean, Miss Monica Cortese! She’s forty-three years old and a secretary for an entertainment company. Apparently she’s been at the Memphis Pyramid--”

“Bass Pro Pyramid, Jere. Get it right.” 

“... The  _ Bass Pro _ Pyramid for several days now due to some business meetings (why did they choose there, out of all places, for their meetings?). She’s widowed and has one daughter named Sabrina that she’s brought with her and… uh…”

While Jeremy faltered in his report, Lucas began flicking chocolate wrappers at Noah’s face till Noah finally got up and busied himself with searching through his neverending amount of suitcases. Lucas followed him and continued to toss any object he could find at Noah’s turned back.

“Okay, so really quick witness accounts said that there’s been strange happenings going around wherever Miss Cortese’s been. Things falling and shattering and people getting injured occasionally. She doesn’t seem to have any physical changes to her appearance, so probably not Death, Devil, or Hierophant… Uhm…” 

Noah threw one of the shirts he retrieved from his luggage at Lucas’ smug face. The shirt smelled of wine and cigarette smoke. 

Jeremy halted. “Are you guys even paying attention?”

“We are, Jere. We are!” Lucas said as he and Noah played a pathetic game of Shirt Tag in the hotel room.

“Just… Just listen, guys. Please.” No doubt Jeremy was pinching the bridge of his nose on the other end. “So your mission will be to determine what her ability exactly is, and if it’s dangerous, to put a stop to it. She’s new to her ability, so she probably doesn’t have any bad intentions. Be careful and if you need anything, make sure to actually  _ call me _ this time!” 

“Got it!” 

“Lucas, why does your voice sound so far away?”

Lucas looked up from the other side of the room as he attempted to yank the shirt from Noah’s hands. The phone was resting upon the bed sheets several feet away. Finally, with a grunt, he yanked the shirt from the other’s grip, victorious. 

“No reason!” he chirruped as he whisked the phone off the covers. “But got all the info! Monica Cortese, secretary, unidentified ability, has a daughter, yadda yadda.”

“So you  _ have _ been listening, thank God. Okay, I’ll text you a picture of Miss Cortese now.”

“Thank you very much, Jere! We got all we needed, soooo byeeee! TTYL, love you, xoxo, all that stuff!” 

“Lucas, don’t cut me off again--”

Lucas cut him off again. 

“Now that Branflakes is off the phone, can I have my shirt back?” Noah mumbled. He crossed his arms, awaiting the return of a most sacred item. It came back to him in the form of it thwacking him across the face.

As he straightened the newly achieved wrinkles it had in its fine turquoise satin, he made recon. “So, what’s the image Jeremy sent?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s this lady right here!” Lucas shoved his phone into Noah’s face. It took a moment’s squinting for Noah to look past the myriad of cracks, but once he did, he could make out a woman’s face stretched taut with age. Bordered by violin string eyebrows, her eyes looked exhausted on the surface but housed an old sharpness. “So,” Noah began. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Hmmmmmmmm…” Lucas performed this whole show of thinking with chin taps and all. “Well, I’m starving, so I was thinking of going downstairs to check the restaurants. The mission could wait until we have some food!”

“If that’s the case, I’ll just stay in here.”

“I think they may have a casino down there too, isn’t that interesting?”

When Noah looked back to him, Lucas’ smirk had become the Cheshire Cat’s.

(...)

The elevator dinged as two men stepped out from the sliding stainless steel doors. 

Noah was dressed to impress… Or perhaps that was an overstatement. What was impressive was the amount of young adult girls who would no doubt fawn over that turquoise satin shirt hanging loosely from his Tim Burton-esque shoulders, the chest window larger than the Eiffel Tower, and the slimming leather pants that his shirt was tucked in. The amount of Robert Sheehan fashion draped over his body was either outrageous or admirable depending on who one asked.

Lucas was a different story. His neverending fondness for turtlenecks has made it into the clutter of stupid unbuttoned dress shirts, black coats, and overpuffed sleeves. Not that it looked particularly  _ bad _ as even Jeremy may gag out that Lucas was somewhat handsome, but the last article of clothing fell the positives to dust. What was that last article of clothing? A  [ signal light red fishing cap ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f6/56/28/f6562815f9d4255b332d6f6dc998f52c.jpg) slapped unceremoniously on his black curls.

“You sure you want to wear that?” Noah said as he lazily put out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray after getting too many stern looks. 

“There is nothing wrong with my turtleneck.”

“Your turtleneck… Right, that was what I was talking about.”

The two spent a moment meandering about the area, occasionally straying into stores and frowning at the cheesy light fixtures tacked up along the way.

The issue with the Bass Pro Pyramid, Noah found, was not lack of pizzaz. No, he would daresay the interior decorator tried way too hard to make the place presentable. 

The ceiling shot straight up into the sky with the vanishing point literally vanishing among the faux trees, wooden wolves, and whatever swamp decor that could be dragged out from some cheap Halloween store. Fake weeds, fish ponds, and general “Fishing with your Father” go-gettum merchandise made Noah either itching to get out or itching to tear the whole place down and set it up with something vaguely presentable. 

However, Lucas seemed to enjoy it. He spent the walking minutes swinging around light poles like Don Lockwood, tugging at strands of fake hanging moss, and waving at the sturgeons circling in the pond. 

Ever so fickle, he couldn’t find interest in any of the restaurants, instead declaring he’ll just get food at the casino. Despite his certainty in his statement, what he just ended up doing was browsing the menu for twenty minutes and changing his mind every five as Noah smoked complacently in the men’s bathroom.

Finally, after a sullen carb-filled meal of hamburgers and french fries (that Lucas dipped into his soda), they were at the casino floor.

The patronizing ringing of slot machines, scatter of poker chips, and sharp dealing of Blackjack cards filled Noah’s ears. Murmured voices coupled with cigarette smoke dizzied him with the memories of nights at Velour Noir. Uproarious laughter startled him from a Texas Hold ‘em game to the right, and to the left wafted the musky smell of alcohol from a bar.

After so long within the staunch apartments of the agency, where strange beasts loomed and abnormal characters lived, the familiarity of the sounds, the smells, and the lights were awe inspiring. 

“I’m going to try my luck at the roulette, have fun!” Lucas waved goodbye with one gloved hand and his form was swallowed by the moving bodies. 

Noah was alone. 

Right. That was no issue. He was in his element here after all, so he would daresay he was absolutely confident! But… just to be sure, he consulted the eight-ball on what he should do:  _ “Bad idea, but could be fun.” _

Screw him with a broom then. 

Bad idea, but could be fun… It could be fun, so surely everything would be fine.

Right?

  
  
  


“Full house,” a smiling man with teeth like television boxes said as he flipped over his poker cards. A great sigh went around the table as pretty people in pretty clothes with pretty faces threw down their cards.

But Noah didn’t. No, he was far classy for the likes of that. Slowly, he placed his own cards on the table, flipping them over one by one. Then with a voice as oily as hair cream, he purred out, “Straight flush.”

The man across from him gaped, watching as Noah swept away the poker chips as a greedy man would collect money from a vault. That poor man… but it didn’t matter, Noah had won. You never played poker with the devil himself. 

After he cashed out his winnings, he was considering to consult the eight-ball once more on his next game, but something else caught his attention instead.

A young girl, couldn’t be over eleven, stood on the sidelines of the casino floor. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, fanning out in a curly thorn bush behind her. More interestingly, tucked behind her ear was a pin of a simple black cat with leering yellow eyes. Perhaps it would have been cute if it had been broad daylight, but beneath the staunch red lights of the casino, it looked positively evil. 

The girl seemed to be looking for someone. She kept biting the nail of her thumb with every dart of her eyes, but despite these nerves, her face was sharp with cleverness. 

Scratching his neck, Noah looked about to see if there was anyone around who could possibly know this girl, but nothing. She looked as alone as he did. So, shuffling upon the shag carpet, he approached her as calmly as possible. “Hey, are your parents around?” 

She took a step back, eyes widening. “N-No, I just lost my mom. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s a pretty big deal, kid.” He attempted to crouch to her level but he found he couldn’t. Damn these leather pants. “Er… Do you have your mom’s phone number or anything we can use to contact her?”

“I-I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“Hmm… How about your name? You have to know your name, right?” Funny joke, Noah. Funny joke.

She stopped to eye him suspiciously. With a small huff, she attempted to fold her arms in her big fluffy black coat, but it ended up just making her look like some shaggy bear. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers anything,” she said accusingly.

Oh boy. “Listen kid, I’m just trying to find your mom for you and--”

“Noh! What’s up with the child?” 

The girl tucked her hands close to her as Lucas approached with the straw of his soda cup in his mouth. He slurped loudly for a second, glancing between Noah and her. 

“She’s lost, can’t find her mom. I’m trying to help her, but she doesn’t know her mom’s phone number and she won’t tell me her name,” Noah grumbled.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” He turned to the girl and crouched down to meet her eye level so easily it made Noah jealous. “Okay, so I’m Lucas Copperfield from the Paradigm Agency.”

That did it. The girl’s eyes lit up like stars and suddenly she was rocking up the balls of her feet. “You’re  _ the _ Lucas Copperfield? From  _ the _ Paradigm Agency?” She still held her hands close to her, but suddenly she was exploding with things to say. 

Lucas took a noisy sip from his soda, awaiting the praise to end. “Yup, I am. Noah’s from the agency too.” He pointed his drink at the other man. “But I’m cooler though.”

She laughed at this.

“Anyways, we’re here to help everyone, be good people, etcetera etcetera. So, that means we’re not strangers! Whoopee!” He did his own version of the jazz hands as he continued. “But if you tell us your name, we can go to the intercom and see if your mom is still in the casino so she can come pick you up. Sounds good?” 

Pursing her lips, the girl considered this before nodding. “I’m Sabrina.”

Sabrina… Where had Noah heard this name before? Something Jeremy had said while Noah had been busy trying to stop Lucas from tearing his expensive possessions. 

Lucas’ gaze was calculatory when Noah looked back at him, but it was suddenly lost beneath the usual playful indifference he sported like a reflecting shield. 

“Awesome.” He held out a hand to her. “Let’s go.”

She looked at it and up to his face. His hand. His face. She seemed awfully hesitant. 

“Faster you get to your mom the faster she could go buy you toys or whatever.”

Unfurling her hands from her thick coat, she slowly reached one up to his but proceeded to pause, expression intense. Why was she so reluctant when a moment ago she was jumping for joy when hearing about the agency? No idea. However, as she set her face into a determined one, she grabbed it.

Lucas’ eyes widened a fraction and he suddenly pulled away. Noah straightened himself, observing the other’s state. What, did the kid burn him? Shock him? What was it?

“Oh. My. God.” Lucas turned slowly, expression painfully horrified. “I  _ completely _ forgot to call Ilex!”

Jesus Christ. So that was what it was about. 

Lucas placed a hand over his face like a damsel. “This is horrible! We haven’t caught up in so longggg, I need to do that right now-- bye, Noh!” He triumphantly twirled his phone out of his pocket and completed his magician’s vanishing act. Now, all that was left of him was one cup of grape soda. Typical. 

“What did I do?” Sabrina squeaked, trembling. Her hands were tucked back into herself.

Noah sighed melodramatically. “Nothing. It is but the burden of Lucas Copperfield that we both must bear.” 

She didn’t look convinced.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. That’s just how Lucas is.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, extending one hand down to her. 

Again, there was that apprehension in her eyes, that concern, but if Noah said so, surely it’ll be fine.

She clasped her hand in his.

At first, it was nothing. He could still hear the slot machines pinging behind him, smell the toxicity of alcohol in the air, but right as he began to open his mouth, something strange came over him. 

It was a chill, crawling up with thin spider legs across his arm. It skittered, leaving goosebumps and apprehension behind, but still he held tight. 

“Mister Noah?” Sabrina stared at him, nibbling on her lip.

He didn’t see her. The flashing lights of the casino dimmed and fell away to darkness. His head hurt and he could hear a strange sound in his ears. It was a thumping. A drumming of sorts. It pulsed and throbbed and pattered against his ribcage. 

Suddenly, he realized the sound was not in his ears, and his face blanched deathly white. Perhaps Sabrina had said something at that moment, but he did not know. He didn’t know. The sound became louder. And louder. It was thumping and an intense rush of terror overtook him. He trembled. Let go of her hand. Let go of her hand. Let go of her--

“Sabrina!” 

The thumping sound quelled and the casino burst back into full radiant color, complete with laughter, lights, and cacophony. 

A woman was rushing towards them, her face taught with age. She narrowed her violin eyebrows, and she was saying something, but Noah still couldn’t pick it up. 

He felt numb. 

Numb as Monica Cortese, the person they were supposed to be observing on this mission, came and swept away Sabrina Cortese. 

Numb as Sabrina looked back at him, wondering again just what she had done.

Numb as he removed a cigarette from his pocket shakily and lit it up. 

He took a heavy drag, but it still did little to quell his racing heart that thumped with lucky rabbit’s feet against his chest. Finally, he took a glance around. 

Has the room always looked this small?

Has the windows always been barred so tightly?

It was that damn curse. It had to be. The faint whims of that damn curse. Quickly, he looked towards his eight-ball for an answer:  _ “You deserve to suffer.” _

Thanks eight-ball, thanks. 

He suddenly felt overwhelmingly sick and he managed to stagger his way over to the casino’s bar, putting his hot face against it’s cool surface. 

“Bad night?” the man tending it said as he wiped down a glass.

Noah didn’t say anything, merely pointed a trembling finger at one of the bottles behind the counter.

“Oh, I see. It’s one of those days. Don’t worry, I’m sure things will be clearer later,” he whistled as he picked the bottle up and began to fill a shot glass. Just as he was to slide the filled shot over to Noah, the glass slipped from his grip and shattered across the floor, spilling alcohol over the pristine checkered tiles. 

The man cursed, moving to grab a rag from the back counter. “Whoops, bad luck. Sorry man, I’ll grab you another one. ”

_ Bad luck. _

Noah eyed the broken glistening shards of the glass fitfully as they smiled at him from the floor.

(...)

The sound of a shower turning on roused him from his sleep. 

What should have been a calm wake up involving the soft press of the pillow beneath his head and the slow removal of blankets was replaced by agony. 

Head splitting terrible agony.

“Gooood mythical mooooooorning, Noah!” Lucas sang from somewhere in the room.

Noah cringed, hands going up to lazily attempt to cover his ears. His head swam as he opened his eyes but furiously shut them when the light became too harsh. “Quiet… head…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence as a wave of nausea rushed over him, threatening to fling himself from the bed and put his face to the toilet.

“If you get  _ this _ bad hung over, you should just stop drinking, sheesh.” Lucas’ voice travelled besides him and he could hear Lucas pick up his phone and text someone. 

A hangover. That explained a lot. 

Slowly, he braved wakefulness, bracing his arms under him as he managed to push himself into a straight sitting position on the bed. There were no covers to kick off, as he seemed to be in the exact clothes as yesterday (which granted he is grateful that Lucas didn’t strip him), but they were sweaty and appeared to be stained with several of yesterday night’s drinks. 

“The shower’s turned on for you, aren’t I considerate?” Lucas said as he finished texting whoever and put his phone down. 

When Noah spoke, his voice trembled and rocked on unsteady knees. “What happened?”

“Oh, apparently after Cortese found her daughter, you just left and drank yourself down the drain while I had a fun chat with Illy! Found you and tried to drag you back here while you began to cry on my shoulder. I still have the tear stains to prove it.”

Noah flopped back down on the covers with a groan. 

“Good news is!” Lucas continued. “We can go back to the agency today! Pre-tty sure we have all the information we need for the mission.”

“I see… I’m going to take a shower, holler or do one of your magic tricks if you need me.”

Lucas whistled in confirmation as Noah slunk off the bed and dragged himself into his evil lair known as the Bass Pro Pyramid Hotel’s bathroom to begin his two hour morning routine.

  
  
  


Finally, the hair blower stopped blowing and the vent was turned off. That one window that led from bedroom to bathroom? Well, the curtains were drawn and it was completely fogged up, but there were still little smiley faces lingering in the steam on the glass. 

The door to the bedroom banged open and clouds gushed out followed by a wave of heat as Noah Fitzgerald emerged through the steam like a rockstar onto a stage. His hair was wavy from the blow drying and peacock-like colors flashed as he drew the feathery locks behind his ear in the same manner of a preening bird. 

Despite his very suave entrance, there was still one thing that Noah was, and that was hung over. 

He stumbled to the bed and came to flop onto it with an oomph, cradling his throbbing head in his hands. “So Lucas,” he murmured into the sheets that smelled of grape soda and silly string. “What’s Cortese’s ability?”

Lucas stared at him over the brim of his phone. At the moment, he was lounging upside down across his side of the bed, pink bunny slippered feet kicked over the headboard. “Turns out it’s not Cortese we gotta deal with, it’s her daughter.” He returned to posting his very funny meme on Instagram. 

Noah raised an eyebrow. “The daughter?” That creeping feeling from last night returned. It thrummed like a predator in his stomach.

“Yup,” Lucas said, popping the ‘p.’ “Sabrina Cortese is the one warped. It’s no big deal, in Phi’s terms it’s ‘physical-based tychokinesis’ also known in my terms as ‘she touches you and you get bad luck.’”

Bad luck.

Thump, thump, thump.

Lucas continued to speak. “Not too dangerous.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Its effects on you will wear off this afternoon.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“People got injured ‘cause bricks will fall on them occasionally, just standard  _ bad luck cursing _ .”

The room’s temperature fell down a couple degrees, it had to have. The walls were closing in around them, they definitely were. 

“Noah?” Lucas’ voice sounded distant. 

Last night’s terror creeped on Noah again. Or perhaps it was less of a terror, and more of a reminder.

“It’s fairly weak,” Lucas sighed. “Really, you’re worrying too much--”

“No, Lucas!” Noah ripped himself from the bed. There was that thumping in his ears again. “It-- It’s catching up to me! It’ll take me!”

Drowned, poisoned, stabbed, crushed. Every member of his family, dead. All to the Fitzgerald Curse.

“ _ What? _ I mean, I get your whole superstition thing, yeah. But, plenty of people dealt with it before and they weren’t in worse shape than you,” Lucas mused as he began texting someone again. “As long as you don’t try to gamble again, you’ll be fine.”

Lucas didn’t understand. He’ll never understand.

The terror of that dark empty house. Death trailing after Noah in his wake.

And Noah was a fool to believe it’ll be alright.

_ ‘Bad idea, but could be fun.’  _ Could be fun, he’ll crush that eight-ball between his very hands.

Lucas stared at him, sighing. “Just--” he reached for Noah. “Sit down--”

And Noah fled out of the door. 

  
  


He sprinted through the empty halls as footsteps stampeded behind. The lights passed him in a daze, but he could hear that damned thumping again. 

It filled his ears.

Killed his skull.

Burnt his chest.

What could he do but run? Nothing-- nothing! 

The pattern of the halls just kept repeating-- Each door was the same. 

“Noah!” Lucas’ yell echoed through the halls.

Escape, that’s all Noah needed.

And it came in the form of the stairway. 

A person with a trolley rounded around the corner. Noah banged into the wall to avoid it-- then threw open the door to the stairwell.

  
He took the steps down three at a time. As he came hard on one step, he nearly pitched forward but managed to catch himself on the railing. 

Then, he burst through the door-- into the bustle of the lobby.

There were people, too many people. 

Nowhere safe-- the curse was creeping up on him. 

Any moment now, his head will be split upon on the concrete. 

He made for the right entrance. In came one of the hotel guests, shaking their umbrella out from the rain outside. As Noah reached for the door the umbrella suddenly sprang open again indoors.

Bad luck--

He backed away, tripping upon his slippers before fleeing to the other entrance.

Walked under a ladder, passed a black cat, broke a mirror-- he swore he did all of these things!

He passed the same casino along the way and the thumping in his ears screeched. Those slot machines-- they spun, pinging loudly, before spitting back, “YOU LOSE!”

_ YOU LOSE! YOU LOSE! YOU LOSE! _

The curse was on his heels-- he darted out of the casino into a crowd.

It was nearly there-- he pushed past them.

It was right behind him--

“Noah!” Lucas’ hand grabbed his shoulder. For the first time, Lucas’ expression was completely foriegn, unidentifiable. Some heavy mix of surprise, sadness, and anger-- or could that be concern?

Yet, Noah didn’t see it. 

He backed away like a cornered animal and escaped out of the building into the bright street.

Honks assaulted his dizzy head. The rush of terror he was sure would leave him came back in full blow.

Construction sounds, blowing whistles, death awaited around every corner.

Somewhere quiet! Somewhere hidden! That was all Noah needed!

He rushed into the parking lot, feeling the beat of the morning’s drizzle blur his vision. Behind him, Lucas cursed as he pushed open the doors.

Somewhere quiet. 

Noah darted in front of an approaching black car to the other side.

Somewhere hidden.

_ “Noa--!”  _

There was a squeal of wheels, the crack of brakes, and the smell of gasoline. Then, a thump.

It wasn’t the thump of a heart in Noah’s ears. Rather, it was entirely physical, and his sickly pale face turned back.

The cloudiness of his vision lifted as everything finally sharpened into his view.

The people milling around the curb had stopped, crowding around something splayed on the asphalt. 

He was hearing horrid things: “Someone call 9-1-1!” “Get the man up!” “Who hit him?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. 

The black car had stopped in the middle of the road and its driver came out, harrowed. “I-- I didn’t know what happened,” they said. “I was driving fine until my brakes jammed and this man just appeared out of nowhere!”

Noah approached the crowd of people, brushing into the circle they made.

Down at his feet laid Lucas Copperfield. 

Lucas was not in good shape. A lump the size of a goose egg jutted out from the back of his head, created when he had hit the concrete, and a trickle of blood seeping from his mat of childishly curly hair. His blue eyes, while often cheeky and darting, were unfocused, reflecting the soft drizzle of the sky. Parts of his favorite little outfit were torn away by the road rash on the right arm, and when he inhaled, his breaths were delicate but agonized. He shook and trembled, but he managed to bubble out one word: “...Agency,” before the pain became too great.

There were very few times in Noah’s life he actually had to do something; many of his actions were on a whim, just anything that had fit his fancy at that moment. A little bit of wine here, a proper smoke there, really he did not have much to worry about except for the occasional ill family member he had to take care of due to the family curse.

Yet, here was the tricky little thing: Lucas Copperfield couldn’t do anything. Thus, that meant Noah was the one who had to act, but what did Noah know about acting? Certainly nothing judging from how he had flung himself out of the hotel room in a blind panic. He was considering he could just let the people on the curb handle it, but Lucas was looking at him. Him only. 

His eight-ball weighed heavy upon his face.

No, he wasn’t going to consult it. He had to help Lucas. He had to.

Lucas had said the agency. Contact the agency, right? Noah delved into his pockets, searching for his phone, but he came up empty. Left it in his hotel room, damn it.

But, a glimmer caught his eye, and lying on the side of the road shined Lucas’ phone.

Immediately, he scrambled for it, hands tapping furiously on the cracked screen. Would it even turn on? 

After a moment’s fiddling, Lucas’ comedically inappropriate background popped up, announcing the time.

Thank God, at least  _ something _ was going right. 

Lucas had text messages, a whole load of them. 

The oldest messages were two or three from Jeremy, but the newest ones were all from Ilex:

_ “omg, where u @?” _

_ “u told me yesterday u were ‘taking care of it’ u k?” _

_ “do u still need that backup team lukey?” _

_ “i’m outside @ the right entrance, tell me if u need me  _ 😘.”

Noah’s fingers shook as he texted Ilex back,  _ “this is noah. we require the backup team, lucas is injured at the left entrance. come quickly.” _

_ “wait what’s going awn,”  _ the ping was immediate.

_ “lucas got hit by a car.” _

_ “again??? lukey…… k i’m coming.” _

Several minutes later, Ilex with their spirally horns and three inch pumps came whistling up the street. However, upon seeing Noah, their careless face morphed into something more closed. 

“Paradigm Agency,” they said, flashing their pin to clear the crowd away. 

The people gathered around hushed, stepping off. “The Paradigm Agency? This is due to an ability?” they murmured amongst themselves. 

Ilex’s eyes roved over Lucas’ unconscious form quietly. As the silence lengthened, they relaxed with a gentle blink. “Not to worry, Noey,” they said. “We’ve got someone back at the agency who could fix this right up.”

Noah had to hold back a huge gasp of relief. “So, he’s not dying?”

“Nooooo, you’re going to have to do more than hitting Lukey with a car to kill him.” Ilex wrapped their arms beneath Lucas’, struggling to lift him up. “Mind helping me? We just gotta get him to the car.”

One incredibly inefficient transferral and silent drive later, Noah was lounging against one of the plush recliners besides the med bay. Ilex and Ophelia were watching over Lucas behind those clinical white doors. As for Noah, he hadn’t moved since, mumbling something about how Lucas was his responsibility and he should stay there, damn it. 

Considering it was  _ Lucas _ Noah was talking about, people were sufficiently confused. 

After Theo and Dakota left, satisfied with the answer he gave them, Noah watched as Jeremy continued to pace back and forth in front of the med bay door.

“My first mission,” Jeremy muttered, hand tucked under his chin. “-- and Lucas got hit by a car and Noah freaked out. Good job, Jeremy. Good job.” 

With no one else to talk to so he could quell his uneasy stomach, he wiped the droplets of water off a grape soda can, saying, “It turned out pretty terribly I can’t lie. But I don’t think it’s entirely your fault.”

Jeremy stopped his pacing. “W--What do you mean?”

“You figured out what Sabrina’s ability was and you helped her, right?”

“Well, I sent Rah and Dr. Melbrooke to take care of the problem, but what if I made the wrong choice--” His phone suddenly began to beep the classic Android ringtone. Gulping, he fished it from his pocket, shushing Noah as he went. “Rah, please tell me you or Dr. Melbrooke hasn't been hurt. No? You took care of it? _ Oh, thank God. _ ” He wiped the sweat from his brow, relieved. “So Cortese understands and Sabrina’s alright? Mhm. That’s amazing to hear! I knew I could count on you guys.” A beep as the call ended.

The phone was stuffed back into his pants’ pocket. “Okay, so maybe you and Lucas weren’t the best choice-- no offense!” He smiled sheepishly. “But, uhm… I’m glad you guys are going to be okay.”

Noah’s shoulders relaxed, however the guilt of his cowardice prevented his smile from reaching his eyes. “Me too.”

The med bay doors burst open and out came Lucas Copperfield, looking right as rain… or perhaps looking even better than rain as he shimmied a horrible (Tiktok 😬) dance into the waiting room. “Heyyyy, Jere! Wouldn’t you say I did a good job?” Gone were the scrapes and lumps, now he looked just as handsome and bright as he did yesterday afternoon. “Contacted Illy immediately after I determined Sabrina’s ability, texted for some back up just in case, I think I did swell!” He practically sang his good deeds like a child would in their letter to Santa.

Despite Jeremy’s furious glower, he lacked the intimidation that the likes of Skadi may hold. “Yes, but you texted Ilex, not me! Communication’s important with missions, you of all people should know that.”

“Jerry, why don’t you come with me to feed Bete?” Ilex suggested, striding from the med bay doors with a grin. “I  _ know _ my Vassal’s going to be upset Lucas survived and it’ll definitely want some food, the poor thing.” 

“But--”

“C’mon, Jerrryyy!”

The elevator dinged as Jeremy was dragged kicking into it. “No! Ilex, let go! Lucas, don’t think you’re going to get away with this again, I--”

The doors closed with a resounding thud. 

Now, it was just Noah and Lucas in the silence.

To do  _ something _ , Noah removed another cigarette from his pocket. The pack was all crumbled up from their misadventures, but after a bit of straightening out, his cigarette was good as new! The lighter clicked and within a moment, the Empress floor was filled with the scent of smoke. Ironic.

Fortunately, Lucas didn’t seem touchy about the smell attacking his nostrils, but he did wrinkle his nose a bit.

“Poor Rodster, he’s going to feel left out now,” Lucas said, tucking his arms akimbo. 

Noah didn’t respond, instead he cracked open the can of grape soda he had. It fizzled with its opening, a little spurt of bubbles rushing out and lining the top like lines of silly string. “Here.” He shoved the can into Lucas’ hands.

“Wait, is this for me?” He seemed taken aback.

“I hate grape,” (Lucas made a frowny face at that), “So I don’t know who else it’ll be for.” 

“Oh, well thanks.” A little smile spread across his face, completely unlike the former toothy ones he had given Noah in the hotel. It was small, appreciative. “Erm…” He took a long sip from the soda. “I guess I should say sorry for doing a bunch of things without you knowing… and not being careful enough since you got really freaked.” 

Noah sighed, kicking back further upon the recliner. “And I apologize for getting ‘really freaked.’” He didn’t look at Lucas then, merely rocking back and forth, creaking the chair. Please fill the silence, please fill the silence, please fill the silence--

There was a loud glug as Lucas practically made out (lol) with his grape soda. With a smack, he wiped his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize for that, waaaay too morose, Noh.” 

Noah smirked around his cigarette, silently thanking Lucas. “You’re the one who got run over by a car.”

“What, are we going to argue about who did what now?” 

Quiet. This old banter felt warmly familiar. “Well…” Noah began. “We can have a manly battle for who’s right.”

Lucas’ face lit up, and he spun on his stupid shiny shoes with a grin. “That sounds fun! No going coward on me, kay?”

“Of course.” With a grunt, he hopped off the chair. “And I prefer you don’t do anything  _ ‘weird.’” _

“Maybe later, but not this time,” Lucas whistled.

“So deal?”

“Deal.”


	2. SCRAPS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scraps that didn't make it in as well as my initial outlines :smug emoji:

**Scrapped opening with Phi instead of Jeremy**

“You are terrible, Copperfield. Your report on the apparent ‘hauntings’ in Henderson was supposed to be on my desk two and a half minutes ago-- wait no, make that three minutes.” 

Tap, tap, tap. The patronizing little sounds of a finger with bitten down nails came down against a shiny wristwatch. The culprit of all this tapping, would of course, be a second-in-command, but not your typical second in command. No, no, no. What should have been a broad shouldered fabulously wealthy boss was replaced by an overworked sleep deprived man baby with ego issues. Messy hair clung to a sweaty scalp, frizzing out behind his head in a big mop of brown, thick pink glasses squealed as they attempted to hold onto a little imp nose, and worst of all, his perky little eyes seemed to glare down pompously at his victim despite being vertically challenged himself. 

  
  


**Interaction I couldn’t find space for**

“You know you’re not allowed to smoke in the rooms.” Cheek in palm, Lucas kicked his feet in the same manner that teenage girls might when calling their ten million friends. 

Noah squinted at him suspiciously before sullenly removing his pack of cigs from within his pocket. “Want one?”

“Oh, sure.”

  
  


**Lucas’ and Ilex’s call**

I didn’t write it yet, but this was supposed to be an extra scene I felt too tired to write (lol). It was supposed to be set up to display Lucas and Ilex’s relationship and display Lucas’s cleverness in the mission.

When Lucas tells Noah, “Be right back, gonna call Ilex!” after holding Sabrina’s hand and he felt the effects of her ability, that’s when he knew and he went to call Ilex about it, saying to just keep in touch in case anything could go haywire.

  
  


**Nocas bed sharing**

They were initially supposed to share the bed and hijinks involving grabbed blankets and pillow fights were to ensue.

Instead I realized that if Noah was to pass out, it would be more simple to not write the bed sharing scene entirely.

  
  
  


**Original outlines**

(more detailed version of casino scene)

  * change monica rossellini’s name it prob doesnt fit sounds too fancy. make it sound more stern secretary
  * the warped person is going 2 be monica’s daughter
  * daughter is first lost and timid but noah and lucas help her
  * lucas brushes her hand 4 a moment and goes “take care of it, noah, ill be back” and goes off 2 call ilex, make it seem like lucas is slacking off (add in a scrapped area in which lucas and ilex’s conversation is revealed) but in reality, lucas knows that the kid is warped and he talks 2 ilex about it to update them. still, make sure lucas sounds cocky and careless here-- think it’s “no big deal”
  * while lucas is gone, noah helps 2 cheer up the girl or at least ease the girl’s fears and shows her… casino machines cause he’s got nothing else. they have banter for a moment and the girl seems more eased. she finally grabs noah’s hand and lets noah look for her mom. noah gets a feeling like someones walking over his grave and he rips his hand away from the girl. the girl looks scared. 
  * b4 anything else could happen, monica comes towards them herself, leading her daughter away. 
  * noah gets drunk 2 attempt 2 forget the sinking feeling of holding the girl’s hand
    * drops a wine bottle. lucas goes “oooo bad luck.”
  * lucas comes back, doesn’t seem 2 note noah’s panic
  * they both get drunk, casino montage, they head back 2 the hotel room
  * shower, all that wind down jazz



(overall outline)

  * add a description about the bass hotel pyramid at least the setting during lucas and jeremy’s conversation
  * jeremy sends the case file of the warped guy and says lucas’ and noah’s hotel keys r at the front desk under some false aliases.
    * idk make the desk receptionist say “you and ur boyfriend” 4 the lolz
  * have lucas twirl the key card on a chain on his finger DO IT
  * noah arrives with a gratuitous amount of suitcases (“is that all for one night?” “yes.” “okay, whatever.”, they have some back and forth banter)
  * they go into the room, turns out it’s a couples room with one bed (ilex harassed jeremy and changed the booking to make it so). lucas immediately takes that bed flopping over it with maybe some inner monologue suggesting slight discomfort but its subtle. 
  * they spent a moment’s banter taking about the bed before noah decides to just sleep next to lucas
    * “We can have a manly battle for it,” Lucas groaned into the sheets that smelled of polyester.  
“Manly battles aside, I don’t feel up for it anyways,” Noah said, lighting a cigarette.
  * lucas is going for independence, he doesn’t care if noah actually helps with this chance based warped target they’re investigating
  * there should be a sense of cockiness that lucas has over noah, a feeling that lucas didn’t need noah whatsoever and an implication that lucas is going to do everything alone and noah only has to sit there and look pretty
  * lucas and noah spend a bit relaxing in their hotel room before lucas gets up and announces he’s going to go off and do “investigating” for the boss. in reality, he’s planning to peruse their restaurants and buffets. noah decides to go with him and later heads to the casino.
  * CASINO MONTAGE WOOHOO (they also might get drunk)
  * they catch sight of their target on one of the pool tables and noah plays a game of pool with the target OR SOMETHING THINKING OF SCENES HERE
  * MAYBE THERE IS A MOMENT IN WHICH NOAH AND THE TARGET SHAKE HANDS (and eventually lucas and the target do too) AND IT IS LATER REVEALED THAT CHANCE BASED DANGER SPREADS 2 PPL THE TARGET MAKES PHYSICAL CONTACT WITH
    * noah is panicking for his life in the hotel room the next morning
    * lucas is going “eh it’ll be FINE”
    * warped woman has tychokinesis ability where she gives some1 bad luck through physical contact? scenes of noah rushing through the casino in a hungover panic. the slot machines behind him all say “YOU LOSE!!!” as he rushes by them
  * at the end, it is lucas instead who is struck with the chance based danger by the warped guy, not noah, and noah must do something to help lucas
  * they head back to the agency where all the member based chars are mentioned at least once
  * and they maybe try to fix lucas there? BUT WHAT HAPPENS TO THE WARPED INDIVIDUAL
  * ok they send a pair of COMPETENT individuals 2 go help the warped woman (maybe ophelia and rah??) 
  * phone call comes to jeremy: “everything’s taken care of jeremy!!!” - ophelia



**Author's Note:**

> HEY 😁  
> i am so glad 2 have written this nocas fanfic 4 the adoring public of very famous fandom paradigm effect <3  
> thank u and good night <3


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